


Love's Greeting

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-01
Updated: 2007-01-01
Packaged: 2018-08-16 04:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8087917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Trip wakes up to a very pleasant surprise.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Sorry that this sequel has been such a long time coming. I had problems with it which took a long time to sort out. I hope you enjoy it.  


* * *

The dream was always the same.

And Trip always woke up at the most interesting part. Don't we all?

He dreamt Malcolm was moving towards him, wearing a black leather catsuit and slowly pulling down the zip as he came. He was accompanied by the most exquisite music played out of sight and very quietly, by a violinist. Malcolm got closer and closer, pulling down the zip. By the time Malcolm reached Trip it had reached his navel. Then Malcolm surprised Trip by bending down to kiss him. Trip was quite happy to kiss back, and also to run his hands and lips all over Malcolm's torso. The zip had travelled most of the way down and Trip thought that if it went any lower Malcolm would just - pop out. Trip was just about to enjoy Malcolm's body - when he awoke. It happened every time - at exactly the same point in the dream! It was getting frustrating. There was a difference this time, though. There had never been music before.

* * *

It was odd. He was awake, but he could still hear the music.  
He lay there for a while with his eyes shut listening, and thinking that he felt good inside, satiated, as though he'd had a night of really great sex, although he couldn't actually recall having a night of great sex. Or even regular sex, come to that. He curled up into the foetal position, sighed deeply, and settled down to go back to sleep. Sleep, however, eluded him. Something wasn't right. It wasn't just the music. No, the bed felt wrong. He couldn't put his finger on it, but...

He opened his eyes, and looked at the wall in front of him.   
'Funny,' he thought. 'There should be a dirty patch right about there.'   
There was something not quite right about his quarters. They seemed to be his, yet not. O.K, the officers' quarters were all basically the same. It's the way the occupant personalised it that made the room their own. He looked around the bed area and noticed subtle differences. For a start, the bedcover was the wrong colour. It was a blue-green, whereas his was a deep blue colour, and - {sniff}yes, the bed smelled different. Not unpleasant, just different. The contents of the shelf over the bed were wrong. And there was still the music. Where was it coming from?   
He sat up looking across the room. It was definitely not his room! Where was his antique diving helmet? He swung his legs off the bed, only then discovering that he was naked.  
He pulled the bedcover over himself, turned to look in the far corner which had been hidden from his view whilst lying down, - and saw Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, the ship's rather formal, straight-laced armoury officer.. 

And he was playing the violin!

He was obviously a very good player, and was completely absorbed in the music. The expression on his face confirmed that.   
A music player on the desk was providing the accompaniment to the piece, which came to an end as Trip watched dumbfounded.

Malcolm started when he realised Trip was awake.   
"Sorry," he said."I didn't mean to disturb you." He switched the music player off and carefully placed the violin on the desk.

Trip realised then that he was in Malcolm's quarters, not his own. Well, that explained a few things but he was very confused.  
"What...? I mean....why? Aw, shucks. I don't know what I mean." Then...  
"How long have you been playing the violin?" he asked accusingly. "And why was I in your bed?"

Malcolm leant against a locker, arms crossed, looking a bit miffed.  
"I started learning when I was seven, and if you don't remember how you got here, then last night couldn't have been very memorable for you."

"Seven!" Trip nearly exploded. "Why've you been keeping it a secret for so long, then?"

"Why did I need to tell anyone?" Malcolm asked quietly, in an attempt to calm Trip down. "You've only found out now because this is the only chance today I shall have for any practice. I need half an hour every day or I get rusty. I thought if I had it muted, you'd be sound enough asleep for me not to disturb you." 

"So you snuck a violin on board, and you've been playing it every day for the last three years, and nobody has noticed?"

"Had you been standing outside my door whilst I was playing, you wouldn't have heard a thing. The   
soundproofing is pretty good."

"Really?" Trip knew that the sarcasm was uncalled for but couldn't help himself. He felt rather let down that Malcolm had kept such an important part of himself hidden from his friend.

Malcolm sat down on the bed beside Trip, looking at him with those wonderful grey/blue eyes that Trip would love to drown in, and said, "It would have been my second choice of career, you know, but weapons and explosives always seemed to get priority. I know music and explosives are complete opposites, but I've been hooked on both ever since I can remember." 

He got up and opened a small top locker which, Trip could see, was full of recorded music.   
"I'm always listening to something while I'm off duty, especially last thing at night before I go to sleep. But on duty, I concentrate on my job. I keep the two completely separate."

Trip shook his head as if to clear it.  
"I can't believe that no-one knows this side of you." He was genuinely puzzled.

Malcolm sat down again and he had a sort of faraway look in his eyes. He was obviously remembering something from a while ago. 

"The day before I signed up for Starfleet training I had a rather heated exchange with my Father. He wanted me to do navigation, or possibly communications. Or something just as boring. Anything other than weapons. But I was adamant. As far as I was concerned it was weapons or nothing. I could have signed up for navigation, and then transferred later, but that to me, was underhand, and I wanted it clear and above board.

We argued for ages with him going on about how dangerous explosives were, and me trying to explain that learning to handle them properly removed most of the danger. He just couldn't see it. Finally I said that if I couldn't do weaponry, I would make music my career, instead. I knew this would get a reaction, because to him, music is a hobby. Not something to make your living with.  
'YOU - WILL - NOT!' He almost screamed it at me. He was red in the face and almost choking with rage. 

'So weapons it is, then?' I said. 

I signed up the next day with my Father standing behind me fuming. He always wanted me to join the Royal Navy, you know, following family tradition, but I have this thing about water - I don't like it. When I went off to Starfleet, I took my violin with me. There was an orchestra there which I joined right away, so I was able to keep playing."

"Does anyone else in your family play an instrument?" Trip asked, wanting to know more of Malcolm's musical side.

"My mother plays piano, my father viola, and my sister cello." Malcolm answered. He seemed keen now to tell Trip everything. "We would have musical soirÃ©es every week. Sometimes just us, but on other occasions friends brought their instruments and joined in. When that happened, if there was ever someone else with a violin, I would be relegated to second violin, even if I was the better player."

"Seems to me you would need a big room for that sort of thing." Trip remarked. "I don't suppose it was a grand piano, was it?" This was said jokingly.

"Actually, yes." Malcolm seemed rather ashamed of admitting it. He sighed. "My parents bought the house because it had this enormous room on the first floor, with huge windows that looked out over the countryside. Nothing else was important but finding a suitable music room." 

"And I suppose you and Madeleine had the best of teachers?" Trip knew the answer without Malcolm's nodded affirmation.

"Now don't tell me! Your violin's a Stradivarius." 

"No. It isn't. But it _is_ an Amati."

"Never heard of it."

"One step down from a Strad."

"So still pretty good then?"

Trip was calmer now. He had never before considered that Malcolm might be musical and it was going to take some getting used to. He watched as Malcolm put the instrument carefully into it's case, slackening off the bow a little before putting that away, too. The case then went into the back of a locker. No-one would have known it was there.

"O.K." Trip said, "So you're a closet violinist. But I still don't know what I'm doing in your quarters."

"You're here because I invited you. But I'm surprised you don't remember." Malcolm grinned. "We had rather a good time."

"We actually did what I've been wanting to do for ages?"

"If 'what you've been wanting to do for ages' is to spend the night with me - then- yes." 

Trip was beside himself with despair. "That could explain why I was feeling so good when I woke up, but I thought it was all a dream. And, anyway, I woke up just as the dream was getting interesting."

"Mmm", Malcolm mused. "Maybe that was the point where the dream became reality."

"But I don't remember what happened next!" Trip was getting rather exasperated.

"Well, you weren't drunk. Perhaps you were just heady with excitement?"

"I still don't see why I would forget..."

"Never mind, Trip. We'll do it again tonight, and this time I guarantee you'll remember it."

Trip didn't know what to say. He was too confused.  
Malcolm was ready to go on duty. "I'm going to get some breakfast now." he said. "Do you want to join me?"

"I'm not dressed. Where are my clothes?"

Malcolm pointed to a drawer. "It's all there. Except your boots. They're under the desk. I'd offer you some clean underwear, but I don't think mine would fit you."

"Thanks. I'll manage." Trip went to get his clothes. "By the way, what was that music you were playing? I rather liked it."

"It's by Elgar," Malcolm replied, "It's called 'Love's greeting.' It's a good piece for the violin and I enjoy playing it. But I have to go." He leaned towards Trip and placed a kiss, very gently, on his astonished friend's lips. It was the only contact the two had shared since Trip awoke, and as Malcolm moved towards the door, he continued, "You're welcome to use my bathroom. Just don't leave it in too much of a mess."

That lop-sided grin was the last thing that Trip saw as Malcolm left the room.

"Mess? What does he mean - mess? I'm not messy, am I?" Trip looked round Malcolm's ultra-tidy quarters. "Well, maybe compared to him, I am."

As Trip showered, he was feeling a bit narked.

'Does he think he's the only one who likes classical music?' - 

'Bet his favourite piece is the "1812 Overture". All those cannon... '

'If he'd asked, I'd've happily sat and listened to music with him.' 

'He only had to ask.' This was accompanied by thumping the wall with his fist. 

'He kissed me! He actually kissed me!'

'He said we'd do it again tonight.'

'Tonight...'

'Yeah... And Malcolm always does what he says he's gonna do.'

Using Malcolm's toiletries, it occurred to him that they would both be smelling the same today. 

'Gee, I hope T'Pol doesn't find it too overpowering.' 

'Shucks. Eat your heart out, T'Pol. See if I care.'

Shaved and dressed he tidied away anything he could. "It's probably all in the wrong place, anyway," he muttered to himself as he opened a locker to throw something in. Then he stopped and did a double-take. He was looking at something hanging in the locker. He couldn't quite make it out but it reminded him of - what? He took a closer look, then reached in and drew out the garment.

"Well, I'll be..."

He was holding a black leather catsuit!

ooOoo


End file.
